


Having Tea with the Devil

by Links6



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fevers, M/M, Mid Season-6, Sassy Crowley (Supernatural), Sick Castiel, Sickfic, Sneezing, Sorry Not Sorry, a bit of comfort, archfrenemies, fluffy fluff, i love it, so much sass tho, super fluff though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Links6/pseuds/Links6
Summary: Castiel is struck down with a case of the flu, but the first person to find him isn't who he'd expect...





	Having Tea with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Alright... so this is set sometime during Season 6... it IS slightly AU (since I haven't actually watched more than 6 episodes of S6 as of yet), but hopefully the OOC-ness is not too bad!

Castiel was sure that at this point his vessel was surely rejecting him. The fact that the little contents of his stomach –the lone remnants of the packet of Twizzlers Dean had given him to taste yesterday- decided to eject itself on the sidewalk was proof enough.

 

The angel shuddered and coughed painfully. He shivered and spat the remaining acid taste out of his mouth. ' _And humans insist on drinking until they achieve this state?'_ he wondered ruefully.

 

He straightened up, but the twinge in his stomach made him double over again with a grunt. The only time he's ever felt this type of pain was when he was evicted from Jimmy Novak's body over a year ago. That was the only other time he's  _ever_  felt anything like this.

Even his vessel 's clothes felt too hot, too heavy from him. But he also felt as if he was freezing on the inside.

"Well you look a picture of health," an  _irritatingly_ familiar voice came from behind him. The same  _detestable_  being's hand came to rest on his back. "Decided to finally commit suicide? Interesting choice... I always thought you were more of a fight-to-the-death type... "

"What are  _you_ doing here?" Castiel growled, forcing himself to stand up straight, glaring dangerously.

"Is that any way to greet the person who's your deliverance from pain?" Crowley asked smoothly, stepping back and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Castiel's eyes narrowed, but suppressed the cough tugging at his throat, "You are  _not_ my "deliverance". But... I do not wish to fight you at the moment, please leave." he snapped, suppressing his shiver.

"Oh really? Why leave when it would be  _soooo_ easy to kill you right here?" Crowley grinned, appearing right in front of the angel, grabbing him by the neck, " _Right now?_ "

 

It wasn't even a tight grip and both of them knew that, but nonetheless, Castiel ended up squirming uncomfortably at the increased pressure on his –already painfully sensitive- neck. He grabbed Crowley's wrist, tugging uselessly at the demon's wrist. He tried to swallow carefully, but his throat was so dry and scratchy, it only had the cough working up his throat again.

 

The demon let up his grip and lightly clapped the angel on his back, "Take it easy, I didn't come here to kill you..." he said and rubbed small circles on the man's back, trying to ignore the fact that Castiel was presently trying to fry him with his Holy Aura alone... not that it was working, but it still had Crowley's hand erupting in pins-and-needles.

"What do you have t-to gain from this?" Castiel asked wisely, glaring up at the –still smirking- demon.

"Truthfully?"

"Demons always lie."

"Fine, then, I'm here to kill you," Crowley said sarcastically and shook his head after a moment, "Tell me, what do I have to gain by you dying?"

"I am an obstacle in your way... preventing you of taking all the power of the underworld..." Castiel commented, trying to clear his throat as softly as possible.

"True... but I still need you to take care of Raphael... not to mention keep an eye on the Winchester brothers..." Crowley mused for a moment, shaking his head with a disapproving scowl on his face.

Castiel looked up, his stance still guarded, but he nodded with understanding, "Yes, I know."

"Hold on," Crowley muttered, clasping a hand over Castiel's shoulder and transporting them to Crowley's personal home.

 

The apparition side-effects had Castiel nauseous again.  _Demon teleportation was never something anyone got used to. It felt like his soul was on fire._ The tugging on his stomach had him coughing again, and Crowley managed to move a trashcan in front of him just in time.

"Seems like hanging around meat-suits too long have shot down your  _Holy Grace-infused immune booster..._ " Crowley placated smugly, patting the man on his back again, " _What a shame_..."

 

Castiel growled, running his hand down his face, exhausted.

 

"As long as we're here, you might as well make your self comfortable... " Crowley said, frowning for a second when he saw Castiel's unhappy face before turning to head out of the study, "Or... at least... as comfortable as possible..."

 

The angel watched Crowley disappear around the corner, out of the room, before looking around. He blinked and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. The room itself almost looked ... normal. Plush-looking black leather chairs in front of a cherry-wood desk. Books lining the walls, some framed scrolls of text hanging on the walls. A relatively enclosed space, but the ceiling made it feel much more roomy. The fireplace in the corner, next to the three-seater couch kept the room at a warm, comfortable temperature. It actually felt cosy. And, considering the only time Castiel  _ever_  felt cosy was in Heaven... the feeling took him by surprise.

He slowly shuffled towards the single-seater close to the desk, sitting down awkwardly on the chair. He desperately wanted to sit close to the fireplace, but if he did  _that,_ he'd have a hard time seeing who came in through the door... and he was still VERY aware of the fact that he was in CROWLEY's den... not someplace where he could call safe. He sniffed, trying his best to refrain from wiping his nose off on the sleeve of his trench-coat, trying to remain as stoic and non-chalant as ever.

 

"Cas?" Crowley asked suddenly reappearing in the study, carrying a tray of what seems to be tea and some medicine. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"I... am sitting?" Castiel answered unsurely, shivering momentarily, tugging his coat tighter around him.

"Are you going to sleep sitting upright then?" Crowley growled irritably, motioning to the three-seater behind him.

"I do not require sleep," Castiel informed softly, his voice still raspy, but obediently –and gratefully- standing up and making his way over to the three-seater couch regardless.

"Well angels don't get sick either, do they?" Crowley countered smartly, " _Surprise, Surprise_..."

Sitting down on the three-seater with a huff, "My vessel just seems to be rej-" he suddenly sneezed, causing the lights to flicker in the room.

Crowley rolled his eyes, holding out the tray to the angel sitting on the couch, "Take that," he jerked his head to the cup of tea resting on the saucer on the tray, "Some tea should help."

"Did you... " Castiel stared at the contents of the tray numbly, trying to find the right word. "Are all of these items... for  _me_?"

"Shut up and drink the damned tea," Crowley snapped, holding the tray in one hand and abruptly snapped the fingers of his free hand.

 

When nothing significant happened, Castiel looked around unsurely, the teacup now held securely between his hands, "What did you just do?", he asked, although, even by his tone alone both of them could tell that the angel wasn't truly interested in the answer... not when the careful sip of the tea he just took was as heavenly as he had prayed for. He was surprised that it actually was just warm enough to relieve the growing pain in his throat without burning him. It was sweet and had a slight scent of cinnamon to it. It was frighteningly comforting.

 

"Your little 'present' over there?" Crowley said with his disgust only partially hidden, pointing to the trashcan, "It's contents now resides in the backseat of the Winchester Chevy..."

"What...?"

"I said: You seem to have flu... I could either heal you..." Crowley extended his fingers towards Castiel's forehead, only to have Castiel grab his hand instinctively, "OR! I can just give you human medication... it should work _... I think_..."

Castiel rubbed his forehead with a groan. He set the teacup down on the saucer and looked at the packet of medication in Crowley's hand wearily, "I do not trust you..." he said, taking two of the flu-meds capsules Crowley held out to him.

"I don't need you to trust me... I'm just doing this for my own advantage... " the demon said, he shrugged as he handed Castiel a glass of water. "... Just one thing, if I AM going to make sure you don't die in the next few days, at least turn off your 'smiting-aura' while you're around me..."

A tilt of Castiel's head had Crowley showing him his hand. The demon's hand was pinkish and seemed to be burnt slightly. Apparently, even physical contact with angel alone can cause demons harm.

Castiel didn't answer him, but Crowley suddenly stopped feeling the 'force-field of Holy' surrounding the angel. A surprised and slightly annoyed look from the angel met Crowley's devilish smirk.

...

 

... it was a short while later ...

 

" _You still have a fever?"_

Castiel suddenly jerked awake, bolting upright from his slumped position on the couch. For a moment a surge of panic ripped through him. And even worse, when he finally registered where he was, his panic only increased.

"You should take another dose of this... I think I might have something for the fever too..." Crowley grumbled, removing his hand from Castiel's forehead before suddenly disappearing from sight.

The angel tried clearing his throat, only to wince painfully. He  _hated_ this feeling. He felt weak, tired, in pain... he sighed unhappily. He just wished that he could actually return to Heaven. Being Home always made him feel better, no matter what happened. But, until Father returned... he couldn't go back there, or at least, not without having to avoid all of his brothers and sisters... he really did miss them though.

When Castiel opened his eyes, only to meet with Crowley's scowl.

Crowley stared searchingly at Castiel for a few minutes, noting the dampness around his eyes, the angel's eyes still sparkling unnaturally.

"Try this..." Crowley said, tossing a bottle of pills to Castiel, "If your vessel really is being infected by a human illness... and your own Holy Grace can't keep you healthy... I doubt  _my kind's_ healing would work..."

Castiel turned over the bottle curiously, a frown forming on his face.

"The young lady who  _used_ to live here had a small supply of medication stocked here... " Crowley said and shoved his hands into his pocket, "I guess I should've thanked her..."

 _Should've... he killed her..._ Castiel sighed helplessly, dropping his head into his hand, wishing he could just purge the entire world of demons right then and there.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic!" Crowley yelled angrily after noticing Castiel's expression, "She's on holiday in California at the moment! I don't kill  _everyone_ I meet, you know?"

The angel winced at the noise but couldn't help but smile internally, slightly surprised but pleased all the same.

"Besides, I can always use her later..." Crowley said and took a seat on the chair opposite Castiel, "Hell always needs more lawyers, right?"

 

Two tablets and another round of flu-meds later, Castiel sat back, sighing contently. "Thank you very much, I do appreciate all your help... " Castiel said hoarsely, only to start coughing again.

A second later and Crowley was clapping Castiel on the back. This, unfortunately, had the wrong effect on the angel... and the coughing suddenly turned to dry heaving. "Oh... no,  _NOT_ onthis rug!" Crowley exclaimed, drawing the emptied the trashcan closer and handed it to Castiel, "It's Persian for heaven's sake... "

A last racking cough ripped through Castiel's system, but he finally managed to take a shaky breath in.

"Let's keep that on-hand, in case you decide to 'yell at the carpet' again..." Crowley said and dropped the trashcan next to the couch.

"... Why would I speak to an inanimate object?" Castiel blinked up owlishly at Crowley. He cleared his throat, causing one last cough, and then finally sat back with a yawn.

The demon shook his head disapprovingly. "Nothing..." he muttered and motioned for the angel to follow him.

When Castiel made no move to follow, Crowley smiled suggestively, "I'm not going to seduce you, if that is what you're worried about," he crooned, "Besides, you are  _literally not_  my type."

 

The two of them –although, one of them reluctantly- headed to the kitchen.

Castiel looked around for a moment before heading to the sink. He can clearly see through Jimmy Novak's thoughts how a cool compress to the head always made him feel better... deciding to give it a try, Castiel slowly opened the faucet, taking a handful of the icy water and splashing it on his face. The contact with the water had him cringing as the heat coming from his forehead and cheeks suddenly changed to pain.

"You're not very clued-up on how to look after a sick human, are you?" Crowley said and chuckled as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Castiel splashed his face one more time before closing the tap, "I've never had to use such methods for healing... " he said and turned around, yawning again.

"Sucks when you don't have  _Amazing Grace_ , huh?" the demon said, taking a gulp of whiskey.

The blue eyes that had been watching the former Contractor suddenly dropped to the floor. The angel swallowed uncomfortably but stayed silent. He was well aware that his absence from Heaven had the grace he had been blessed with taking strain.

"Want something to eat?" Crowley said and pointed to the fridge, "Help yourself."

Castiel looked around uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "No, thank you, I will be fine..." he said quickly.

But, to that, Crowley merely rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.

A small assortment of crackers, cheese and fruit appeared on the kitchen counter. "You really are a big baby... no wonder Dean finds you so adorable... you must remind him of his little brother..." the demon said and motioned to the plate, "I'm not going to spoon-feed you, moron."

A small bow of his head, and Castiel took to chowing down on a green apple.

"Oh... that's an apple from the Tree of Knowledge of Go-" Crowley started to warn, but instead, he burst out in laughter as Castiel was suddenly struck with the same nausea from before, running over to the sink in a flash, "Wait-wait... just kidding!"

The angel sputtered uncomfortably for a few moments, trying to swallow between breaths.

"Couldn't help it!" Crowley shrieked in his laughter, slapping his leg, "You're much more fun than Uriel!"

The night drawled on, but, not at quite a lethargic pace as Castiel expected.

Soon enough light was turning to dusk and the last rays of red afternoon glow seemed to stay longer today than the other days. Of course, Castiel reasoned to himself that the only reason it would seem that way was because of his retinal sensitivity and complete lack of energy.

 

_Who knew that feeling weak was draining enough in itself?_

 

Castiel sat, eyes closed for a few minutes, seemingly trying to fight off a migraine-attack. He's been hearing  _their_ voices for the past half an hour. They were searching for him, and if he stayed much longer... they might get suspicious.

"Are you having a conniption, Cas?" Crowley asked, strolling by the aforementioned man.

"The Winchester's are calling me," Castiel answered, automatically standing up.  _That_  only served to send him reeling and stumble sideways.

 _"Riiiight..._  " Crowley said sarcastically, grinning as the angel almost face-planted on the Persian rug. He watched with silent amusement for a few seconds as Castiel tried to find his footing, before finally kicking the angel's feet from out from under him. " _Sit down."_

Castiel flailed spastically, falling backwards until he finally was seated back on the couch, "You could have requested me to remain seated," he growled monotonously.

"I did _._... oh, could I ask you something... demon to angel?" Crowley changed subjects offhandedly, looking something between uninterested and amused, taking another sip of whiskey, "Did you practice that voice of yours, or were you born a news anchor?"

"I fail to see the relevance of occupation to -"

" _Never mind_ ," Crowley huffed, quickly side-stepping Castiel's thundering sneeze just in time. The lights flickered in the room, the kitchen-light flashing on-and-off for a second. "... If this is going to happen every time you decide to rain mucus upon my carpet, I will have to either relocate you or dispose of you... "

A pair of blue eyes flicked towards him, his previous Holy-force-field fluttering back into place.

" _Honestly_ , I thought you'd be able to discern sarcasm by now..." Crowley snapped, rolling his eyes.

 

The angel couldn't help but smile involuntarily at the demon's 'honest' line. A  _demon_ telling the truth to an angel. How fitting...

 

The smile faded though and was replaced by a stern, concentrated look, "I feel the medication working," Castiel said abruptly, taking in a deep breath to test the theory. For the most part, his sore throat and headache had subsided. The nausea had also, for the most part, settled. "I should leave."

Crowley waltzed over to his chair and sat down, "You  _should_ , but you're not going to," he said, grinning. "Right now you're weak and vulnerable... You have the whole damn brotherhood of Archangels after you  _and_ you are  _not_ exactly the Justin Bieber amongst demon realm either. If you're going to team up with me on this project, I need you healthy... and, for the most part, in one piece."

The demon snapped his fingers, waiting for his henchmen to arrive. He smiled calmly as a short guy, just under five-foot-five walk in, "Skye, be a doll and bring me a couple of pillows and blankets... you know... those things," Crowley said, waving his hand in a circle, "Oh, and some pretzels... the barbeque kind?"

The guy rolled his eyes, shuffling off while humming some obscure rock-song.

"And  _that,_ ladies and gentlemen is  _exactly_ why the human race deserve to be our slaves... " Crowley said, shaking his head with a sigh, "Who in the hell names their son,  _Skye?..._ Honestly. We'd be doing the world a favour."

The angel didn't protest, but by his frown, it was obvious he was unhappy about it.

A few minutes of semi-uncomfortable silence passed. At least, uncomfortable for Skye,who just walked in again. But, neither Castiel or Crowley seemed to be bothered by the atmosphere at all.

"Uh... this ... stuff?" Skye muttered, standing awkwardly with the items.

"The Holy man needs the fluffy items and I'll take those," Crowley said with a grin as he pointed to the pretzels.

The distribution of the items went over smoothly, but the grin on the young man's face couldn't be helped when he saw Castiel's stoic sitting position.

"Have you found purgatory yet?" Crowley said irritably, setting his whiskey glass down on the side table.

Skye shook his head. And, to that, Crowley's eyes flashed black, " _You have something better to do than breathe my air, don't you?"_

 

It didn't take long for the odd pair to be alone again, the crackling of the logs filling the silence. Crowley had taken to reading through his copy of the Art of War, whilst his  _guest_ still seemed to be stuck somewhere between getting-comfortable and I-should-get-the-hell-out-of-here. Strangely enough, it didn't bother either of them though. It almost felt like a ... homely ambience.

 

The angel sat awkwardly, the pillows and comforter still on his lap, trying to suppress his sniffling as best he could. Every few minutes he'd try to pass off his coughing as him just clearing his throat, but it never really worked. He covertly tried to wipe his nose on his sleeve, only to get caught in the act by a pair of inquisitive eyes. He wasn't sure if his vessel's personality made an appearance when he reacted unwillingly by smiling sheepishly.

"Want me to tuck you in there, sweetheart?" Crowley finally asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow.

It almost looked like Castiel contemplated the idea for a second before smiling back, "No... but,  _thank you._ ". And with that, he was gone. The pillows and comforter dropped to the couch.

_"... You're welcome."_


End file.
